


Is There a Problem, Sir?

by nackledamia



Series: The adventures of Chef!James [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Chef!James, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nackledamia/pseuds/nackledamia
Summary: It’s James’ birthday, but he doesn’t get a day off work. Thomas decides to surprise him at work.Post - Hell’s Kitchen AU.Part 2 of my Chef!James series.





	Is There a Problem, Sir?

**Author's Note:**

> This is really short, but took me a surprisingly long time to write. I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> For Levtuve. Inspired by a conversation about this AU we had like 6 months ago.

It was no surprise that James won Hell’s Kitchen.

It was also no surprise that over the next 6 months, Thomas and James became a steady celebrity couple. Thomas was glad that James had quickly taken to him, just as how he had fallen in love with James at first sight. They moved in together, into a humble house near James’ new job location. Everyday was a dream come true for Thomas. He had a great job, a great life, and the most perfect boyfriend. Perhaps one day, they could be more than just boyfriends-

“You’re making breakfast,” James’ soft, surprised voice from behind startled Thomas out of his thoughts.

“Good morning!” Thomas exclaimed, turning away from the stove with a spatula in his hand. He smiled at James, who stood at the entrance of the kitchen, dressed in his chef uniform. “Happy birthday, honey.”

“Thank you,” James’ expression softened with a smile.

“Your birthday breakfast is almost ready,” Thomas turned back to the food. The chair scraped against the marble floor as James took a seat at the kitchen table.

“But you can’t... cook,” James stated.

“Well, I’ve been watching and learning from the best,” Thomas flashed another charming grin over his shoulder as he slid a classic american breakfast onto a plate. He turned around and served James his breakfast with an unexpected peck on the cheek. “Bon appetit.”

Thomas slid into the seat next to James, watching nervously as James poked the bacon with a fork, examined it and took a bite.

“How is it?” Thomas asked immediately.

“It’s… not bad,” James nodded, chewing thoughtfully.

Thomas threw his arms into the air triumphantly, making James smile again.

“The plan for today is for you to do zero cooking, but have lots to eat,” Thomas began, his chair scraping the marble floor loudly as he scooted closer to James, draping an arm around his shoulders. “I have booked an open air, top floor restaurant for lunch. We’ll have one of those fancy chef displays where they cook the food in front of you-”

“Thomas.”

“-And then, we’ll visit a fruit garden and I have permission to pick berries straight off their berry bushes and into our mouths-”

“Thomas!”

“-and then for dinner we’ll go to a sweet outdoors barbeque spot and you can watch the sunset while I deal with the food,” Thomas finished with a flourish, grinning broadly. “What do you think?”

“Thomas,” James said patiently, gently removing Thomas’ arm from his shoulder. “I have to work today.”

“WHAT?” Thomas squeaked in surprise.

“Why else do you think I’m wearing my uniform for, then?” James gestured at himself.

“...Habit?” Thomas spluttered. “James, no one works on their birthday! Can’t you take the day off?”

“People don’t stop dining just because it’s my birthday,” James explained, standing up and straightening his uniform. “Well, thank you for the delicious breakfast. I have to go now-”

“No, wait!” Thomas dashed to the entrance of the kitchen and stood there with his arms spread out, blocking the exit.

“Thomas,” James sighed.

“I had the whole day planned out for us! Could you call in sick?” 

“That would be irresponsible,” James stated firmly. He walked towards Thomas and leaned in to kiss his cheek. With that as a distraction, James slipped past him. “I’ll see you after the dinner rush. We’ll still have time for supper!”

“That’s not enough!” Thomas wailed, turning around, but James had already crossed the living room and the front door shut with a click.

Thomas flopped down on the seat James had been sitting on, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He was about to tweet “ _Can’t believe James has to work on his birthday :( #chefsworkhard_ ” when Thomas realised that there was a much better way to use his celebrity status.

He had a plan on how to get James out of the kitchen.

\------

“Good afternoon sir, table for…?”

“Just one, please,” Thomas spoke in a gruff, lowered voice, pulling his cap further down to hide his eyes. He was wearing an uncharacteristic polo shirt with the collar up, baggy jeans and scruffy shoes.

“This way, please,” the waitress ushered Thomas in, sitting him at one of the middle two-seater tables in the restaurant. “Our lunch specials for today are-”

“Oh, uh, I already know what I want,” Thomas interrupted. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he did want his plan to get James out of the kitchen to move along quickly. “Could I have the steak special, and a latte, with a side of mac & cheese?”

“Certainly,” the waitress nodded at him as she scribbled down his order. “It’ll be right up.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said, and by habit, gave her his award-winning smile. She squinted suspiciously at his face, as though she thought she recognised him, and Thomas quickly dropped his smile. He couldn’t blow his disguise or his plans would be ruined. Clearing his throat, he lowered his eyes and deepened his voice again. “Uh, thanks, miss.”

When the waitress left, Thomas tapped his finger on the tabletop repeatedly, more nervously than impatiently. He was an actor, sure, but he never had to do acting in real life, in a restaurant, where there could be unexpected reactions to his performance - when people did not know that it was a performance. 

He had ran through his live performance idea with his agent and publicist and both warned that it could either go very well or very badly. They stated that he could simply use his celebrity status to demand that James have a day off, but Thomas declined. Being a celebrity didn’t give him the right to be an asshole, and James would hate to be dragged from the kitchen unwillingly.

No, if his live performance method went well, James would be the one agreeing to leave the kitchen himself.

“Sir, your steak special with a side of mac & cheese, and your latte,” the waitress’ voice brought Thomas back to the restaurant. 

“Thank you,” Thomas made a conscious effort to lower his voice and avoid eye contact as he was served, exhaling in relief when she finally left.

It was time for part 2 of his plan.

 

Thomas pushed the food around his plate until he decided that the lunch crowd had filled up the restaurant with a sufficient audience to his live performance. Then, he took a large bite of the steak, chewed briefly, and swallowed before gagging. He coughed exaggeratedly, pounding his chest with a fist, loud enough to attract the attention of the tables around him.

“What the hell is this?!” Thomas raised his voice, enough so that the entire restaurant now looked over at him. He stood up, and the waitress hurried over.

“Is there a problem, sir?” she asked.

“A problem? I think this is more of a disaster!” Thomas yelled, keeping his cap low and his eyes down, waving his arms around wildly. Thomas could see from his peripheral vision that other customers were taking out their phones to videotape his outburst. Good. This was what he wanted.

“Sir, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s the problem,” the waitress continued to address him calmly.

“I want to see the head chef,” Thomas demanded, “I want to see the head chef now!”

“Sir, the head chef is busy in the kitchen with the lunch rush, but if you tell me what’s wrong, I can talk to the head chef for you,” the waitress offered.

“No, I demand to talk to the head chef in person!” Thomas raised his voice with every word, and ended in a high-pitched screech. He reached for his cup of latte and raised it in the air.

Worried that Thomas - the crazy customer - was about to trash the restaurant, the waitress hurried over to the kitchen. The few moments she was away, Thomas breathed out in relief that his plan worked, and took a sip of his latte. As she burst out of the kitchen with James, Thomas was startled mid-sip and actually choked, dropping his cup of latte to the ground and creating a mess he had not planned to make.

James stood before him, the latte soaking into the nice restaurant carpet beneath them. He looked mildly annoyed. He did not seem to recognise Thomas in his disguise, and almost seemed pleased that Thomas was choking on his drink as karma for disrupting his day in the kitchen.

There was a buzz of commotion in the restaurant now. James was often camera shy among the paparazzi, unused to being a celebrity yet, but here was a chance for pictures and videos of an angry Chef James.

“Is there a problem, sir?” James spoke with the cool regalness of authority.

“This food- I have a problem with the food!” Thomas gestured at his plate.

“What is the problem with the food?” James took a step towards the table and used Thomas’ fork to poke at his steak and mac & cheese, probably checking if it was cooked properly. “Everything seems to be in order, sir.”

“My problem with the food,” Thomas continued, “is that James Madison cooked it!”

James stood up straight, turning back to Thomas. His expression hardened, probably prepared to receive a personal attack from one of those ‘James-shouldn’t-have-won-Hell’s-Kitchen’ extreme fans that he must have thought Thomas was.

“And why is that a problem, sir?” James probed, his authoritative kitchen voice cooling with a dangerous undertone.

“Because,” Thomas took off his cap and grinned, “it’s his birthday!”

_“It’s Thomas Jefferson!”_

The lunch crowd immediately seemed roused by this development in the drama unfolding before them. The waitress sighed in relief and broke into a smile, but James just seemed confused. His stiff, defensive demeanour didn’t relax, as though afraid that it was a trick and he was still about to be verbally attacked.

“Didn’t I say that you shouldn’t be cooking on your birthday?” Thomas’ grin widened, placing his hands on James’ shoulders and shaking him lightly.

_“It’s Chef James’ birthday!”_

“Thomas,” James finally recognised and his shoulders relaxed, but the frown on his face stated that he was still confused about what was going on.

Thomas turned to the lunch crowd and beamed, slinging his arm across James’ shoulders. “Who thinks that James should get a day off on his birthday?” Thomas asked loudly. Thomas gestured at the many hands that went up, then turned to James and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “See? Everyone thinks you should get a day off on your birthday.”

“But-but-but the kitchen,” James spluttered, gesturing at Thomas’ plate and then the kitchen. “I have to cook the steaks!”

“We’ll be alright without you for a day, Chef James,” the waitress encouraged. The lunch crowd whooped and shouted in agreement, excited that the lunch time drama had ended with a pleasant surprise.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Thomas teased, and James looked up at the twinkle in Thomas’ eyes. He looked around at the hollering, videotaping crowd and then to the waitress beside him, who nodded vigorously.

James looked up at Thomas again, and took a deep breath.

“Okay,” James whispered in a scratchy voice, as though he was still afraid or worried about his decision.

“Okay, what?” Thomas probed gently.

“Okay, I’ll take a day off,” James exhaled the words in quick succession.

“Because it’s your…?”

“Because… because it’s my birthday,” James said, more clearly this time, and he finally smiled.

“Happy birthday!” Thomas exclaimed, and pulled James into a tight bearhug, kissing the top of his head.

The waitress turned to the crowd, excited by what was happening, and waved her arms like a conductor. The crowd caught on quickly, and burst into a happy birthday song for James.

“I can’t believe I did that,” James muttered as Thomas released him, loud enough that only Thomas could hear him over the singing in the restaurant.

“Oh believe it,” Thomas chuckled, “and you’re going to have a day of eating without cooking.”

James nodded slowly.

“Now let’s go! We’re almost late for our lunch appointment,” Thomas laughed, grabbing James’ hand and squeezing lightly before dragging him through the crowd and out of the restaurant.

 

 

“When we watch the chef do the table display for lunch, I want to talk to the chef afterwards about their table-display cooking techniques.”

“No cooking, just talking!”

“Okay, Thomas.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought?


End file.
